50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Eight

So this is it: we have finally reached the chapter with the sex in it. Ana has just revealed to Christian that she’s a virgin and he isn’t happy about it. Not to worry though, I’m sure he’ll be gentle…

Another example of Ana’s staggering capacity for being dense. He is standing half-naked in front of her, holding a condom, after having said “I’m going to make love to you tonight,” and she still thinks they’re going to sleep.

He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes into me.

The word ‘languid’? In a sex scene?

I moan once more into his mouth.

Attractive.

Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees. He grabs my hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around my navel … He leans forward, running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. There.

If he gets her off using his nose, I’ll be mightily impressed.

He … pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress. He lifts my foot by the heel and runs his thumbnail up my instep.

Nothing like a bit of sexy foot scratching.

“You’re very beautiful, Anastasia Steele. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
Holy shit. His words.

Yup, he’s a poet alright.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
“I don’t,” I mumble.

Oh dear Lord, so speaks the robot woman.

He strokes her breasts until she comes, which goes a little something like this…

I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. … Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about.

All the fuss. Brilliant.

His finger slips through the fine lace and slowly circles around me – there.

In this context, the word ‘there’ encompasses a whole load of complicated shit. For a book supposedly so graphic, EL James keeps escaping to this conveniently vague term.

Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free.

Badoing!

He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length.

I’ve not heard it called that before. It feels like this is how someone wearing a monocle would describe it.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes … “You expand, too.”

Keep that dirty talk coming.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele.”

Roger that, Mr. Grey. No really, roger that.

“Hard,” he whispers, and he slams into me.

Oh man, slams?!

“Aargh!” I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity.

This isn’t erotic any more.

He moves slowly at first, easing himself in and out of me. … I moan, and he pounds on… I start to stiffen as he thrusts on and on. “Come for me, Ana,” he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at his words…

Slamming, ripping and pounding does it for her. They’re going to get along famously.

I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him.

It was only a thousand pieces before. Stupid, crap first orgasm.

Two orgasms … coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine.

You’re washing your clothes wrong.

“I want you sore, baby,” he murmurs … “Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I’ve been here.”

She really won’t need reminding. In fact, I’ll bet an awful lot of money that we won’t hear the end of this.

I come, loudly calling out a garbled version of his name into the mattress.

Chrisssstiblaaaaaahhhhhnnnn!!!

She falls asleep and wakes up to find him playing sad piano tunes in the living room, thereby demonstrating that he’s not just a walking penis, but also a complex character.

“Bed,” he orders. “You’ll be exhausted in the morning.”

Yeh she will, but not from listening to you play the piano.

Instinctively, I reach out to run my fingers through the smattering of dark hair on his chest to see how it feels. Immediately he steps back out of my reach.

He seems to have a thing about his chest. He kept his shirt on during sex. Could there be some sort of secret afoot? I can hardly bear the mystery.